Those candles of light had disappeared from the mounds attendant on the large one, but every time the mirrors' report flashed on the last they could all see that there was still a pulsing circlet about it—no longer in the form of that wondrous crown, yet visible as a pale ring.

The ramp had been run out again for a short time, long enough for Bojor to shamble down, his thick-furred pelt, having been grown for the season of chill on Yiktor, making him look twice the size that he really was. But the bartles were never to go unmarked by anyone invading their native mountains. Although Bojor had been captured as a yearling, he still retained inherent in him the strength and cunning of a nasty fighter were he to be aroused. As all those Maelen called her "little ones" (which was a misnomer in the case of Bojor, for his breed was notorious for their handling of any would-be trapper and also stood taller than Vorlund when he rose to his full fighting stance on his sturdy hind legs), the mighty beast was able to thought meld with the Moonsinger to an astonishing degree, and had welcomed the chance to be a part of the active forces from the ship.

He melted into the dark as they tried to follow him with the ship's sighting equipment. However, he had been given directions to stay away from the hillocks and to head directly for the cliffs, prowling along the foot of those. Suddenly, as they sought to watch him, there appeared to burst from the ground itself a number of light dots. As if those, too, were under orders, they clustered, outlining the body of Bojor. He squatted back on his haunches, one of his huge paws, meant to deliver crushing blows, waving through the air. Yet he was unable to beat them off. They flashed so quickly that it was apparent he could make no contact with them. As length he went again to four feet and moved on, still revealed by the light dots so that now he could be easily watched by those within the ship as well as by anyone who might have summoned that form of illumination to keep spy sight on the ship and those within it.

Twice Maelen communicated with Bojor, only to report that the bartle had not been attacked, that the sparks of strange fire only hung about him. Yazz, who had come up into the cabin to watch the mission of her furred companion, whined deep in her throat, her attention all for the screen. She raised a forepaw suddenly as if she could scrape the surface of the view plate and so release Bojor from his strange escort. Even Farree, who had only limited rapport with her compared to Maelen's ability, felt her uneasiness, a kind of foreboding. Though the bevy of lights had made no really hostile move, it was plain that Yazz did not trust them.

The bartle's speed was deceptive. Though he appeared to amble along at hardly more than a strolling pace, he had almost finished a quarter of the wall's length. He had passed well beyond the carpet growth of ill-bane and was into the withered land overlaid with the pattern of the hagger web.

Yazz once more whined. Farree dropped a piece of leather-tough dried fruit on which he had been chewing.

"Back!" he cried out. The advancing lights gave only a partial sight of Bojor, not clear to ground level. Farree had felt through his body, as clearly as if he stood out there beside the bartle, that beginning of a stir; not what had moved earlier beneath the hillock but something of the here and now. It was like an evil stench projected to his mind instead of assaulting his nostrils.

Yazz threw back her head and gave voice to a growling which was her own battle cry. She turned swiftly and pawed at the door of the control cabin, at the same time looking over her shoulder to Maelen, her whole attitude expressing her need to be loosed to join Bojor. In the days they had spent together these two, so different in species and early training, had thought themselves into a team, a team which had drawn Farree, too, into its being.

Farree had pushed past Vorlund and was busy with the door latch, Yazz crowding in beside him, ready to leap when that portal opened.

It must have been their united fear which reached Bojor. For the bartle had halted and was standing now, back to the cliffs, from facing outward to where that webbing lay across bare earth. Maelen accepted the warning of them both. With no questions asked she pointed directly to the screen where Bojor was to be seen.

The light sparks shifted as the bartle settled back, again on his haunches, a favorite stance to await attack. His paws hung down before his barrel of body and, though Farree could not see them clearly in the minute flashes of light, he knew that the bartle was extending to their fullest length those broad punishing claws which could tear apart any attacker who got too close.

"What—" Vorlund moved, planting one booted foot over the fastening of the trap door in a stride so swift that Farree had only an instant to get his fingers out of the way. "What are you doing?"

"The hagger– Underground!" Farree returned impatiently. "They can attack, never coming into sight, from below! Lady, call him back!"

Maelen's fingers blazed, building up, as Farree knew, power for her mind sending. But if she reached Bojor, the bartle gave no sign of having received any such orders. His mouth was a little open and they could see his head more clearly, for the sparks were now clustering tighter there about. Though those within the ship could not pick up the sound, Farree knew that the bartle was roaring a challenge. He grasped a fleeting mind picture of a dark tunnel in the earth and things moving along it. Had he or had he not also glimpsed for just a second just such a figure as those small men he had seen in his "dream"?

He thrust his shoulder against Vorlund's leg, the suddenness of his move pushing the spacer off the door even as he struck a fast blow with the side of his hand against the latch. With his other hand he jerked up the plate which formed that barrier and Yazz, snuffling and whimpering beside him, leaped down, not touching the steps of the ladder.

Farree swung, folding his wings as tightly as he could. But it was always difficult to struggle through such passages with what he bore on his back.

Vorlund was following, but he could move no faster than Farree lest he push before him, perhaps disastrously, the smaller, hunched body. He asked no more questions and Farree would have had few answers for him if he had. There was only one thing true—that Bojor was about to face such an attack as none of his kind had ever known and against which all his strength and native knowledge would provide no defense.

They were in the lower corridor now and Yazz was on her hind feet against the wall, pawing at the controls of the ramp.

Farree reached up also and snatched from the rack mounted there a stunner kepi for just such emergencies when trouble awaited outside.

He brought the butt of that against the ramp controls just as Vorlund caught him by folded wing edge. Farree glared at the spacer.

"Out!" he said between gritted teeth. "Bojor will be taken else."

The ramp had answered; the hum of its expansion vibrated through the ship and the scent of ill-bane was wafted in to them by a brisk breeze. Yazz had already taken the lead and was riding the ramp out and down, her formidable rows of teeth locked around one of the railings to steady her as she was swung by the motion of her footing.

Vorlund loosed his hold on Farree. "What and from where?" he snapped.

"Hagger and from underground! Their webs already lie out there. But those are old. Now they are being led!"

Farree leaped ahead, free of the ship port. His wings expanded and he was airborne in the night, wheeling about to face that part of the cliff where Bojor waited at bay.

The spots of light were larger and brighter here, making a beacon easy to see. Farree shook his head a fraction; having left the interior of the ship, he could feel better and stronger that warning of the coming of the attackers. Beating his wings against a strong flow of air he headed toward the splotch of light. A moment later and he himself gathered up attendants. For the same sparks of fire which had hailed Bojor sprang to life around about him, outlining his body, gathering in a tight cluster over his head.